


chordis

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: + Error, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Error's strings being used Very Inappropriately, Error/Nightmare/Killer/Horror/Dust - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Fivesome - M/M/M/M/M, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, anyway, bad sans poly - Freeform, mild haphephobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28884606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: The door opens with a soft squeak and the others enter, though they stop only a few steps into the room, gawking at him with wide eyesockets. Error squirms in his bonds, twisting his wrists a little. He can feel all their stares roaming all over his bare body, even if he can’t see all of them."Error?" Nightmare chokes out, his own cheekbones a vivid shade of turquoise. They all look stunned into silence."Ah..." Error averts his gaze to the side, "I wanted to try something different."
Relationships: Sans/Sans (Undertale)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 151





	chordis

**Author's Note:**

> cross is off on a date with dream NO i did NOT just. forget to add him and discover he was missing when i was done this i. dont know what youre talking about♥♥

The feeling of fur on his bones is surprisingly nice. It masks the metal underneath perfectly. Honestly, it doesn’t feel like he has cuffs on his wrists at all.

He tugs at them experimentally, making sure they’re not too tight. It still feels a bit off, he’ll admit, but since he’s doing this himself, he thinks it’ll be okay. He attaches one of his strings to each cuff, leaning down to do the same to the ones around his ankles. When he’s holding all four strings in one hand, he waves the other to open several tiny portals.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, but he’s able to throw a string through each of the four portals. He opens another portal above himself and all the strings fall down through it, swaying in midair before him. The next part takes even more maneuvering (and a bunch of quiet swearing), as he tries to attach all the tiny hooks on the strings’ ends to the cuff on his left hand.

When he finally gets it, an audibly relieved sigh leaves him. With all the strings hooked, his own weight holds him up a few inches from the wooden floor of the throne room. The cuffs bite into his bone as they hold him up, but it isn’t painful, just a minor discomfort that he can easily ignore.

His breath comes stuttery as he clenches his teeth. Another portal in front of him, fizzing with glitches along the edges, shows him exactly where the others are. And, thankfully, it appears they’re on their way back. He isn’t sure how long he would’ve been able to  _ hang around _ , before the nerves got to him.

They’re all loud enough to be heard the moment then teleport into the castle proper, bickering and teasing each other. Error isn’t sure about what, he wasn’t looking that long.

He waits with bated breath for them to reach the throne room for a ‘debriefing’, flexing his fingers almost impatiently. His SOUL is thumping wildly in his ribcage.

He's had the idea for a while. Though at first it had only been a silly thought that he'd dismissed almost immediately, it kept coming back time and again. For one, he wanted to know how it would be, since they never actually delved into this part of sexual plays. It's not surprising, given how averse to touch Error is, most of the time. He thinks he could handle it now, which is why he’s trying not to chicken out.

Truthfully, he can only really stand the cuffs because they are covered in fur. It's weird.

And, two, he wanted to know if it would actually be possible, to use his strings to hold  _ himself  _ up.

It is.

The door opens with a soft squeak and the others enter, though they stop only a few steps into the room, gawking at him with wide eyesockets. Error squirms in his bonds, twisting his wrists a little. He can feel all their stares roaming all over his bare body, even if he can’t see all of them.

A flush of yellow dusts his cheekbones; he can feel the heat rising up to them.

"Error?" Nightmare chokes out, his own cheekbones a vivid shade of turquoise. They all look stunned into silence.

"Ah..." Error averts his gaze to the side, "I wanted to try something different."

Killer steps forward first, reaching out to run a few fingers over Error's shuddering ribcage, touch featherlight and making the other’s breath hitch.

"Error..." he mutters lowly, "Y’sure?"

Error flashes him a crooked grin. "It took me like half an hour to think this whole setup up, of course I'm sure."

Dust and Horror step up to him as well, Horror circling behind and wrapping his arms around his midriff, feeling Error tense up underneath his phalanges. Due to the fact that Error is held up a few inches off the ground, Horror is at the perfect height to pepper kisses all over the length of his spine, teeth pressing butterfly kisses over the old scars and his shoulder blades.

Dust’s hand reaches down towards his pelvis, rubbing over the heated bone with jittery movements.

Glitches spark under the touches, but they fizz out relatively fast, and the pain is more of another discomfort he’s used to.

Killer occupies himself with kissing Error, tongue summoned and trying to pry its way between Error’s teeth almost immediately. Error's eyesockets flutter closed as they kiss, accepting Killer’s tongue into his mouth readily and wrapping his own ones around it.

Killer pulls away when he’d had his fill, a glistening string of their saliva — red and yellow and filthy — still connecting their teeth together until Killer licks his devilishly and it breaks off into nothing. His grin curls up and eyesockets narrow as he says, "Well, since you got prepared for us this nicely, it’d be rude to decline."

Horror’s teeth also curl up, Error can feel it against his vertebrae as he pulls away a little, leaning up so he can speak directly into where Error's ear would be.

"Tell us... if you want to stop." His voice sounds like an order. "This is a bit too much at once, so... don't hesitate to."

Error hums softly; of course he knows that. But he feels like this might be a good way to maybe stop feeling terrible whenever he’s immobile…

Nightmare watches the show appreciatively; he can probably tell exactly what’s on Error’s mind, and he’ll also know the exact moment when ( _ if _ ) Error gets overwhelmed, so he isn’t scared.

"So what would you like us to do?" Dust asks, hands placed on the curves of Error's iliac crests besides Horror’s, both pairs rubbing softly over the bone.

"Oh, I... didn't really think about that," the Destroyer admits, chuckling a little.

"So you're giving us a free hand?" Killer asks teasingly, sockets narrowed with mischief and moving his hands down to Error's ribcage, wrapping one around the lowermost floating rib and running the other one along one on the other side.

A moan escapes Error, his SOUL hammering in his ribcage. He arches into Killer’s touch, and then Dust’s fingers are back in his pelvis, dragging teasingly along the coalescing magic there. He’s stuck between the two feelings, bucking as much as he can with the strings holding him up. And then Horror’s teeth return to his spine, moving up one vertebrae at a time, and Error’s cry is warbled with glitches as his ecto snaps into place.

His eyesockets flutter closed again and Killer’s teeth are back against his again, tongue pushing into his mouth and running over each nook and cranny, re-exploring Error's mouth and eating up the soft sighs and sweet moans that pour out as Dust’s hand curls around his cock and starts moving up and down at a leisurely pace.

Error tries his best to buck into Dust’s touch, but it's virtually impossible with the way he's held up; he just tugs at his restraints in vain, mouth falling slack in a moan and allowing Killer to ravage it as much as he pleases.

Giving the others a free hand is, usually, a free ticket to the 'won't be able to think for an hour afterwards' world. He loves it.

Nightmare had taken a seat on his throne somewhere along the line, the only indication that he’s affected by the display being the way his tentacles writhe behind him. His eyelight is glued to Error and if he weren’t so preoccupied with all the stimuli, he’d have preened under the attention.

Killer takes to leaving kisses along his jaw and down his neck, raking his teeth against each vertebrae briefly and leaving behind bright blue marks. The marks are dwarfed by the other, numerous bite marks that Horror leaves all over the back of his neck and shoulders, just short of breaking the bone or hurting him.

"Is this enough, Dust’s touch?" Killer asks, passing Dust’s hand and squeezing the length of Error's arousal and then swiping his thumb over the tip, smearing around the yellow precum leaking out. "Or, maybe, would you like me to fill you up?"

Killer’s fingers dip down to his leaking slit, rubbing along the lips and teasing just shy of the entrance, making Error writhe.

Horror is busy teasing his ribs by then, fingers dragging over the length of one, tongue lapping at the exact spot where his last cervical vertebrae met the first thoracic and teeth scraping it sometimes, but he stops to peek up at Error to see his answer. Dust also stops his hand, now just a warm pressure around the base of it.

"Y-Yeah," Error breathes out lowly, chest heaving up and down. His limbs twitch in their confinements, joints already a bit sore from the weight put on them. But it's not painful, so he doesn't really mind, just flexes his wrists again to get feeling in them again.

"Yeah?" Killer echoes into his acoustic meatus, accompanied by another chuckle, "Let us shuffle, then."

Horror’s warmth leaves his back and Error shudders unconsciously, turning his head a bit to see Killer take his place, shorts pushed down just enough to free his cock, the glow bright against the dark cloth.

Dust replaces Killer in front of him, leaning in to kiss him as well. “Can't believe you did this. You look so delectable like this, y’know?" he says, almost quiet enough for Error to be the only one to hear.

Almost.

Horror answers with an affirmative hum, dropping down to his knees between Dust and Error. He eyes Error’s cock like it’s the tastiest treat, tongue lolling out to run from the base to its tip.

Error whines at the praise and the touch, cheekbones coloring further, a deep almost-gold on his ashen bones. Killer’s hand comes back, sneaking between his legs and plunging two fingers into the sopping mess.

Killer grunts at the tightness squeezing around his phalanges. "Excited?" he teases, but his voice softens afterwards, "Or scared?"

Error huffs out a laugh. "No, I just..."

Dust surges forward to press another kiss to his already teeth, cutting off his answer. The kiss is soft this time, just a clack of teeth and a few licks. There's a smile when he pulls away, offsetting the almost-manic edge to his eyelights, a soft, reassuring look that he gives Error.

"It's fine, we don't have to do this if you don't wanna," he repeats.

Error looks down at Horror through the lattice of his own ribs, eyesockets half-lidded. A bit of spittle runs down his chin, a purple line that just completes his debauched look. His SOUL is pounding in his non-existent ears.

"Harder," Error says through a groan, craning his head sideways so he can give Killer a pleading look.

A bit startled, Killer grins at him wolfishly, pulling the fingers out only to ram them back in, making Error choke on his breath and arch sharply. Horror engulfs his cock in a single go, matching his pace with Killer almost perfectly.

Two fingers turns to three, and then four, very easily, lick dripping down Error's quivering thighs. When Killer finally brushes the pads of his fingers against a sensitive spot, he's rewarded by a loud cry of his name and Error's insides squeezing him tight.

He teases a little, pressing right against it only to completely bypass it on the next few thrusts, turning Error into a whining mess without a problem. The sounds the Destroyer makes are music to his acoustic meatuses, and Dust’s as well.

"Say, Error," Dust drawls, fiddling with his own shorts with his free hand, the other still busy holding Error’s skull in place. "What do you want? Do you want Killer to fuck you? Do you want to come with him inside of you?"

Error whines instead of an answer, vigorously nodding his head as he grits his teeth; Killer has decided to reach as deep as he can, pressing into him relentlessly and making white spots bloom in his already blurred vision.

"I can't hear you," Killer joins in on the teasing, pulling the fingers, and also a very whining groan, out of Error.

It takes a second for Error to regain his breath, but immediately as he does, there's a series of "Yes, yes, please, o-oh stars please," tumbling out of his stained teeth.

Both Killer and Dust pull away, though, much to his displeasure. He whines again, watching no less than hungrily as Dust steps out of his shorts, after some more fumbling. Horror does his best to distract him with his tongue, licking along the underside of Error’s cock in broad strokes.

Error drinks in the sight of Dust’s beautifully purple ecto, arousal incredibly obvious, dick standing up, flushed a darker shade of purple and leaking the same precum. Error stares, and he stares unashamedly. Dust notices — of course he notices — and his blush deepens a few shades.

“Take a picture,” he grumbles, though there’s no heat to his words.

“If anyone should, it would have to be me,” Nightmare pipes up, and Error had almost, almost forgotten about him. He seems more than happy with watching, one hand wrapped around his cock, shorts barely out of the way, and Error is secretly glad. He’s not sure he could handle another pair of hands, or even tentacles.

"Could you get a little bit lower, Error?" Killer asks, breath hot against the side of Error’s neck.

"Lower...?"

"Move the portals down."

With a lot of self-control, Error is able to move all portals lower at once, so his feet almost touch the floor. Killer nuzzles against his neck from behind, breathing out a quiet, "Thanks."

That's about all the warning Error gets before he’s pressing into him, cock sliding through Error’s folds without any resistance.

Error moans, body taut as a bow. He tugs at the strings unconsciously, but of course they don't give way, holding him up as surely as the whole time.

Nightmare smiles as he watches Error writhing where he's held up. The Destroyer has a habit of holding onto and gripping whoever is fucking into him. He suspects it has something to do with Error's touch issues, making sure he’s still fine, making sure the other is close and will stay close if he has a say in it. Nevertheless, he finds it cute, and maybe even cuter when Error can't wrap his arms around either of them, just uselessly tug at the strings.

He observes the way Error had crafted this whole intricate trap. Saying he's not impressed would be lying. Holding himself up by his own weight and being unable to escape on his own... Error must really trust them to leave himself this vulnerable. He could just close the portals and cut the strings that way, no doubt, but just the thought that Error actually did this, wanted to do this with them…

Nightmare runs a phalange over the weeping head of his cock and savors what faint traces of positivity he can taste in the room. No one has to know.

Dust steps up to Error again, one hand reaching up to brush the tears beading at the corners of Error's sockets. Error's mouth hangs open to let out a constant stream of filthy moans and pants, his tongues dripping spit down onto the carpet. Dust claims those sinful tongues, pressing as close to Error as is physically possible.

Error makes a noise in the back of his throat and Dust is immediately sure he's glad for the closeness. Horror suckles on Error, savoring the taste, and then raises a hand and Dust guides it to his own cock, the touch making him moan lowly into Error's mouth. His bucks into Horror’s touch, holding onto the sides of Error’s skull to ground himself. Horror makes a tight fist for him to fuck, slick noises coming from down between them, and Dust can’t stop his hips.

Error is putty against him, moving with him as much as he can. Killer starts up a rhythm, fucking into Error when he's sure he's accustomed to his size. The Destroyer is rocked between them, moaning with abandon but unable to do anything else.

Pleasure races across his pseudo-nerves, making him forget completely that his arms had been getting sore. Killer is at the perfect angle to hit all his sensitive spots almost however he thrusts, and each brush against any of them is like an explosion of white, searing pleasure behind his eyesockets. He doesn't know how loud he is anymore, all he knows is that there's pleasure and it isn't stopping and he wants more.

Dust bucks against Horror’s hold, hard, and when he moans into Error’s mouth, he feels a sense of accomplishment that he isn't the only one long gone in his pleasure. Horror’s sharp teeth graze against Error’s cock so, so gently, and he shivers in his restraints with a loud keen. And Killer is slamming into him as well, hands gripping onto his ecto-hips and no doubt leaving behind marks that his shirt will hide but that he'll feel for a few days more.

"D-Damn," Killer huffs, resting his chin on Error’s shoulder. His breath fans not just over Error’s face, but also over Dust’s. "You’re squeezing me so much more… than usual… I’m gonna cum already…"

Error hums against Dust and, now that Killer had said it and that it’s getting to him, Error does his best to squeeze his insides when Killer is buried the deepest in him. He’s doing a great job, because in just a few more thrusts, Killer stills, buried to the hilt and moans heavily as he holds him flush with his hips and cums, filling Error’s blue ecto with his red.

Error whines at the sensation, another sound that Dust eagerly devours. Combined with the feeling of Horror’s tongue moving over his cock and the ever-teasing dips into his slit, Error reaches his brink as well.

His cum splatters into Horror’s eager mouth, swallowed down greedily. He rides on the high, pleasure coursing through his bones and making his vision short out.

He slumps, still held up but with his head lolling down. Killer slowly and carefully pulls out, leaving a few more stray kisses all over Error's back. His cum pours out of Error, dripping down his thighs and making him whine again, cheekbones gold as the sun.

Horror pulls away, hand soiled with the purple of Dust’s cum, spreading it all over himself as he jerks himself, his free hand moving up to his mouth to muffle his panting, as well as wipe all the traces of Error from his teeth.

Error watches him for a moment, blinking away the soft white haze of his orgasm and flexing his fingers. Horror’s flushed expression, browbone scrunched in pleasure and tiny whiny sounds leaving him make Error hot all over again.

"Horror..." he whispers, swallowing emptily a few times to help his hoarse voice. "Horror, stop... I want— I want you to cum in me..."

Horror stops jerking himself, looking at Error with a misty eye. That eye wanders all over Error's body, over his soiled thighs and up to his dreamy expression.

"Move your legs up," Horror orders. Error makes a questioning noise, prompting the other to elaborate. "Like... you're gonna hold them."

Error obliges, moving the portals that hold his legs. It feels pretty weird moving them, but he gets into the position Horror wants; bent a little, legs held up, and on full display.

Horror closes the distance between them, angling Error’s body so even Nightmare can have a full view. He looks at them with a sated grin, making himself comfortable on the throne. Killer and Dust sit themselves on an armrest each, held steady by Nightmare’s tentacles.

Horror places his hands onto Error's thighs, feeling them tremble a bit as he coats them in the cum left on his fingers.

He has no problem pushing in, since Error is pliant and loose, and the Destroyer just moans loudly as he's penetrated again, insides stretched wider by Horror’s girth. Horror doesn't wait like Killer, since Error doesn't need it; he goes straight to fucking him hard and fast, making his already fried magic sing with pleasure that borders on just a bit too much.

He leans over, ribcage flush with Error's and just the thin fabric of his shirt between them, teeth pressing against his neck, kissing and biting onto the pale expanse of bone before him, right over the marks Killer had left.

Oversensitive from just coming, Error just lets Horror pound into him, enjoying the sparks racing across his spine.

"Horror," Error moans, the name almost like a mantra, voice pitching up and down with glitches. His brain can't process much more than the pleasure, Horror’s shuddering, loud breaths and moans, and the way he looks at them like they're a masterpiece painted by an ancient artist. Or maybe a five course dinner. It’s always that with Horror.

Error's cock lays half-hard against his stomach again, twitching from all the stimulation. The only thing Horror can think when he notices is 'cute'. He wraps his fingers around it, fisting it tight and pumping it, fast and hard just like the way his hips are snapping against Error's.

Tears, just as blue as the glow of his ecto-flesh, roll down Error's cheeks, eyelights rolled back. His mouth hangs open, moans spilling out non-stop. He tugs at the restraints fruitlessly.

A cry tumbles from him, body convulsing as he comes again. A drizzle of golden cum splatters onto his stomach, making it into even more of a mess. He clenches down on Horror, sobbing with pleasure for the few more moments that Horror thrusts into him for.

Horror comes with a groan of Error's name, filling him up with his cum. They stay still after that, catching their breath and enjoying the closeness as their highs fade. Horror pulls out, letting his and Killer’s cum spill from Error's abused entrance, dripping to the floor in heavy globs.

Error slumps, groaning as his own weight tugs him back. "Un-Unhook me," he whines, shaking his left arm where all the strings are connected to.

Nightmare stands up to help him, undoing the cuffs and catching Error as he falls slack. The Destroyer curls up in his hold, content with listening to the soothing breaths next to him.

Nightmare cradles him against his chest as he sits back down, tentacles pleasantly cool against his overheated bones. There are still no unpleasant glitches to be found.

"How did you come up with this idea?" Dust asks, the scientist in him always curious, "Not that I'm complaining, you looked really good like that..."

Error takes a moment before he answers. He feels so sleepy. "I thought it'd be nice... to try new things..."

"I think you should tell us before you do something like this again," Killer murmurs, his grin wide, "You nearly gave Nightmare a heart attack."

"Would you mind repeating that?"

"Are you arguing? I'm pretty sure I saw your expression at first."

"I was surprised!"

Error hums against Nightmare’s chest, snuggling into it. "I'll tell you," he promises.

"You look like you’re ready for a rest," Nightmare says, exhaustion obvious in the way Error doesn’t move from his hold, without even tasting it in the air.

"You can tell us how you came up with the idea of holding yourself up with your own weight when we take a shower later. You have no idea how curious I am," Dust says, only a little insincerely.

"I can tell you right now. I'm a genius, it's that easy."


End file.
